Devilish Tricks and Angelic Treats
by WinterSky101
Summary: In which Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate their first unmonitored Halloween.


**This was supposed to be posted on Halloween, but I seem to have forgotten to actually hit post - sorry for that!**

**I'm not British, so I'm not sure how much trick-or-treating is a thing in London, but if it isn't, kindly pretend it is. If Aziraphale can be locked up in the Bastille four years after it was stormed, I can have trick-or-treating in Soho. You know Aziraphale would love it, so whether it's through either angelic miracles or demonic favors, Soho definitely gets a surge of trick-or-treaters every Halloween.**

* * *

Halloween, in Aziraphale's opinion - and he was allowed to have opinions now, wasn't that a delicious thought? - was a truly delightful holiday.

Heaven hadn't agreed with him there, had only seen the more devilish aspects of the holiday, and Aziraphale had had to bitterly defend his choice to engage in trick-or-treating. He'd claimed it was spreading joy, while refusing to do so would have fomented disappointment. Gabriel had dropped the topic in a way that had made Aziraphale very sure he simply thought it wasn't a battle worth fighting, but that had been good enough. It wasn't permission, exactly, but neither had Aziraphale been expressly forbidden from giving candy to trick-or-treaters, and that little gray area was where he did most of his work anyway.

Or, at least, that _had_ been where Aziraphale did his work. He didn't have to worry about that anymore. Heaven could think whatever they wanted about him, and Aziraphale didn't have to care a bit.

That was why, on this Halloween evening, he was puttering around his bookshop wearing a Winnie the Pooh costume, with a bowl full of candy labeled "HUNNY" waiting by the door for the first trick-or-treaters who come around. Aziraphale always purchased full-sized candy bars, and he always got more than were strictly necessary. Crowley always snickered at him for it, accusing him of buying extra candy solely so he could eat it, and Aziraphale always huffed at him and then proceeded to do exactly that. He _had_ to get extra candy bars, he always insisted; he had to make sure he had enough. His bookshop was a favorite for Soho trick-or-treaters, after all, and if he ran out of candy bars too early, it would disappoint the children who came later. (1) Crowley always rolled his eyes and dropped it at that, because, demon or not, he didn't like the idea of disappointing children any more than Aziraphale did. If Aziraphale was being entirely honest, Crowley probably liked the idea even less than Aziraphale did, but mentioning that ran the risk of being shoved against a wall, and Aziraphale absolutely didn't want Crowley to do that in his bookshop. Think of what could happen to his books!

_(1) Of course, he could _theoretically _miracle up more candy bars, but miracled food never tasted quite right. Humans probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference, but Aziraphale would know, and that would also ruin his plan to eat the extra candy bars himself._

Speaking of Crowley, Aziraphale checked the mobile phone Crowley had insisted on buying for him (2), painstakingly pulling up the text messages they'd sent each other earlier that day. Crowley had said he was coming over that evening, around sunset, and as Aziraphale looked anxiously out the window, he saw the sun had just dipped below the horizon. There was no update from Crowley on the phone, but nor had he come.

_(2) And insisted Aziraphale actually use, instead of just letting it sit in the back of his closet like he usually did with the newfangled electronics Crowley pushed on him._"We don't know if Heaven and Hell are going to come after us again," _Crowley'd said, _"and if they do, I want a more reliable way of getting in contact with you than the bookshop phone you ignore half the time." _Aziraphale had spluttered a bit at that - he only ignored the bookshop phone a _quarter _of the time, actually - but he'd understood the urgency and panic underlying Crowley's words, and he'd promised to use the mobile phone._

_Where are you?_ Aziraphale typed slowly on the phone, scowling when autocorrect (3) changed his perfectly spelled words to things he didn't even think were English. It only took a moment, and then Crowley's response came through.

_(3) One of Crowley's; he was particularly proud of it._

_omw_

Aziraphale peered at the letters. (4) "Oh em double-u?" he read aloud. "Ohm-wuh? Oh, Crowley, why don't you ever just say what you _mean_?"

_(4) Text talk wasn't one of Crowley's, but he'd gleefully taken credit for it anyway._

Still, at least a response most likely meant that Crowley was alright, and hopefully he'd make his way to the bookshop soon. Aziraphale set down his phone and went over to the window. There were no trick-or-treaters yet, but the sun had only just set, and it was ever so much more fun when it was dark. Aziraphale waited patiently.

And then, he heard the familiar sound of a Bentley being driven far too fast through the streets of London, and he smiled as he heard it screech to a halt outside his bookshop. Ah. _There_ Crowley was. He was hardly late at all, especially by his standards.

To Aziraphale's surprise, Crowley didn't simply waltz in through the unlocked doors, but instead rang the bell outside. It was perhaps the first time he'd ever done that, and Aziraphale knew it had to be for the drama of the situation. He must have been waiting on the other side in costume, and he wanted to ring the bell like a human. Smiling indulgently, Aziraphale went to the door and opened it.

"Happy Hallow- Oh!"

Lounging in the doorway, dressed in perhaps the skimpiest Devil costume Aziraphale had ever seen (5), was Crowley. The costume consisted of a skin-tight red leotard with a laced-up neckline that plunged to the waist, red fingerless gloves, thigh-high red high-heeled boots, and, of course, a fake tail and fake horns. Crowley was holding a pitchfork too, one that looked a little too real to be part of the costume, and he spun it around as he looked at Aziraphale with a lazy smirk.

_(5) Wearing a sexy Devil costume was something Crowley had wanted to do since he first took credit for the altogether-human invention of making sexy versions of every imaginable costume. He'd never done it before, knowing Hell wouldn't find the mockery of Satan himself nearly as amusing as he did, but now that he and Aziraphale were free agents, he was relishing his newfound freedom._

"Trick or treat, angel?"

Aziraphale looked flatly at Crowley, then he shut the door in his face.

"Hey- Aziraphale! Let me in! Aziraphale, did you lock the door? Did you _miracle the door so I can't get in_? Aziraphale! _Aziraphale_! (6)"

_(6) Aziraphale let Crowley in after a minute, of course, but told him he'd have to hide in the backroom when trick-or-treaters came, so as not to traumatize them with his decidedly not child-friendly costume. Crowley scowled at him, and when the first trick-or-treaters arrived, his sexy Devil costume had changed to a normal, much less revealing Devil costume. The second the door closed, the leotard and thigh-high boots were back. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but Crowley was pretty sure he was amused anyway._


End file.
